


The Pauli Exclusion Principle

by bobbirose



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, It's cute just read it, M/M, Trivia Crack, Unilock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 10:23:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3525677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobbirose/pseuds/bobbirose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is FINALLY about to win against Mike in the most defining game of our generation.<br/>His victory suddenly depends on the gorgeous stranger sitting across from him on the bus--John can only hope he knows chemistry.</p><p>Or: How John and Sherlock meet because John needs an answer to Trivia Crack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pauli Exclusion Principle

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt on Tumblr...as these things go!

“Oh my fucking God, Mike, there is no _fucking way_ you’re winning this time,” John Watson whispered to himself, spinning the multicolored wheel on his phone with a furious swipe of his finger.

The bus jerked, rounding a corner, as the wheel stopped spinning and the lady sitting next to him shot a disapproving look at him. He shrugged at her apologetically but then bounced up and down when the spinner landed on science.

“Medical, medical, medical,” he chanted, waiting with bated breath for the green screen with that eager fucking test tube to give way to a question.

**How many chambers does a human heart have?**

John almost melted in relief. He tapped the first option, 4, confidently and relished in the green CORRECT! notification popping up.

“Fuck yeah,” he whispered, spinning the wheel again.

His heart sunk as it landed on history, and he _prayed_ for perhaps the third time in his life that it was not another American history question.

He shut his eyes and opened them again, pursing his lips as he read out:

**What was the name given to the spread of Communism by the American government?**

_Shit,_ John thought, blinking at the answers.

**The Lazarus Effect**

That couldn’t be it…

**The Domino Effect**

That just sounded stupid.

**Maoism**

Wasn’t that central to China?

**Marxism**

Fuck. Marx? Wasn’t he the communist guy? Fuck.

John held his breath as he picked “Marxism”.

INCORRECT!

John groaned in dread, watching the turn go to Mike.

If Mike got this question right, he would win. Again. For the third time. In a row.

Not that John actually thought that something like Trivia Crack actually determined one’s intelligence, self-worth or even their knowledge of trivial questions (because anything involving Justin Bieber really isn’t worth knowing), but losing three games in a row couldn’t really be chocked up to “unfortunate questions”, a favorite excuse of those who often lose at Trivia Crack.

John checked his phone. Still Mike’s turn. He checked his surroundings—still not even close to his stop.

He sighed and looked around, settling in to do some people-watching as he waited for Mike to probably win the game.

There was an aggressively middle-class and balding man directly in front of him. He was sweating—was he nervous or just hot? John decided he didn’t really care.

His eyes slid over to the woman on the wall opposite him: close to his age, perhaps, but bouncing a cooing baby on her knee. John wondered if she _was_ his age—and if so, if she was in uni too or if she had dropped out to raise her baby. Was that even her baby? Maybe it was a niece. Maybe she was a babysitter. Do babysitters take the kids on public transport? Maybe she’s just a bad babysi—

 _Oh my god_.

A man had just sat down next to mom-babysitter, plopped down next to her with a disinterested if not vaguely distasteful expression towards the peaceful but slobbering baby. He shook his deep brown curls out of his face and surveyed the bus, his _gorgeous_ eyes sweeping over everyone once and taking John’s breath away.

Holy shit, this man was the big leagues. He looked like a model, in all seriousness, something right out of some posh men’s catalogue. He also looked rich as hell, but that was beside the point. Mostly. John _did_ still have quite a large tuition. Like the woman next to him, the man looked to be about John’s age: early twenties, university probably, but unlike the woman, he was lacking a giggling infant. He took out his mobile as it chimed, seemingly tuning out everything else around him and leaving John to study him more openly.

 _Who was he texting?_ John wondered, watching the man’s thumbs fly over the keyboard. _Probably a girlfriend. Or boyfriend._ But the man wasn’t smiling, wasn’t blushing, didn’t look even remotely affectionate or soft, the way you do when you are talking to someone you’re mental for.

In fact, the man was all angles and cool intensity, his elegant curls sweeping over his forehead, one near his ear brushing one of his unfairly pronounced cheekbones. He had a long, dark and stylish coat that hid his cleanly pressed shirt and trousers, a look that made John suddenly conscious about his worn jumper and torn jeans. Whoever this man was, he would probably be sorely unimpressed with John.

 _If he ever puts that phone down,_ John thought, reluctantly turning away to check his own. _And I can talk to him._

Opening Trivia Crack again, he was surprised to find that it was his turn again— _he and Mike were still tied_.

Mike had gotten a question wrong! John could win! John could _win against that fucking_ bastard.

The only one that Mike had missing was the entertainment character, and the only one John needed was the science one. He always saved his best character for last—now all he needed was the crown.

He placed his thumb on the red section and counted to three, spinning somewhere in the middle of insistent and hesitant, as was his ritual, even though he knew it made no real difference.

The wheel spun and spun and then slowed, the ticker almost landing on entertainment, but slipping past at the last second to land on—

John gasped, ignoring the old lady rolling her eyes next to him.

_The Crown._

This was it.

With shaking fingers, John selected the green and smiling test tube and held his breath again as it took him to the question.

**For atoms that contain more than one electron, the Pauli Exclusion Principle states that:**

John blinked. What?

**No 2 electrons in an atom can have the same four quantum numbers**

**Transition metals have incompletely filled d subshells, EXCEPT for scandium to copper**

**All of these**

**Diamagnetic substances are repelled by magnets**

None of the answers even made any sense. This was chemistry—a weird, complicated chemistry questions—and John found himself coming up completely blank.

Starting to panic, he checked the time. He had 27 seconds.

He almost pressed the ‘all of the above’ option, as that was usually the safest option. But John didn’t want to be _safe_ , or _probable._ He wanted to be _right._

He had to ask someone. That’s the rule, right? You can’t _look it up_ —but you could ask whoever’s around you. It’s Cash Cab mentality, it’s a freebie, it’s completely legal—but John was alone.

Well, actually, John was surrounded by strangers. Strangers that could be hidden geniuses. Or majoring in Chemistry.

John blinked, and his eyes roamed over to the male model, who was still staring at his mobile like his life depended on it.

 _Or incredibly hot_ , John’s brain supplied unhelpfully.

John looked at his phone.

Making his decision, John sprang up out of his seat and practically hurtled towards the man, startling him greatly as John thrust out his phone, completely red in the face.

“Um—sorry, I’m so sorry—but could—I’m about to win—could you maybe—“ John stammered, his eyes widening and heart speeding up as the man locked eyes with him, _perfect_ lips parting slowly.

The stranger took John’s phone without comment, looking completely bemused. He scanned the questions and answers for maybe half a second before pressing one, handing John’s phone back with a hesitant and confused smile.

John had a fleeting vision of a CORRECT! sign flashing before it took him to the victory screen.

He gasped as he saw, in digital proof, that he had _won_.

“I won!” John exclaimed, and the stranger blinked.

“That was a game?” he asked, and John almost dropped his phone in shock at the sound of that _voice,_ oh my god.

“Um, yeah,” John replied, unthinkingly taking the seat next to the stranger and not even noticing that the woman and baby were gone. “Have you never heard of Trivia Crack?”

The stranger laughed shortly. “Trivia _crack_ ,” he repeated, looking derisively at John’s phone. “That’s an…interesting name.”

“It’s addictive,” John defended, “It’s not supposed to be…literal.”

“Right,” the stranger amended hurriedly. “And I assume you don’t know much about chemistry?”

John shook his head. “I’m in med school,” he replied. “So I get some of it, but…I’m kind of rubbish at it.”

“How did you know I was good at chemistry?”

John laughed. “I didn’t.”

The stranger looked at him. “Why did you ask me? Is that the sort of thing people do now?”

“Not with strangers,” John replied, smiling and blushing slightly. He looked out the window, and saw with a pang of regret that it was almost his stop. “But I had to win, and I figured the old woman next to me would hit me with her purse if I asked her.”

The man snorted.

“And also,” John grinned, feeling his hands tingle and heart race like he always did when he was doing something like this, “I thought you were incredibly gorgeous so I had to talk to you anyway.”

To John’s delight, the man’s eyes widened and he sucked in a breath, coloring brilliantly.

“Oh,” he said, his voice small and shaky. “Um.”

“It’s okay,” John assured him quickly, deflating a bit. “I just had to…well, my stop’s in a minute so I figured I—“

“My name’s Sherlock,” the stranger interrupted quietly, still red in the face and not looking at John.

“Oh,” John replied blankly, blinking. “Oh!”

Hope bloomed in his chest once and he grinned again, Sherlock offering a small smile in return.

“I’m John,” John said, sticking his hand out. Sherlock took it, blushing even deeper.

The bus slowed and hissed to a stop, and John’s heart sank.

“This is my stop,” John said reluctantly, standing up.

“Wait!” Sherlock stopped, and John immediately sat back down. “Um. I mean…could I…”

“Do you have a pen?” John asked, his eyes on the passengers filing out. Shit, he really couldn’t be late for Molly’s again.

“Here,” Sherlock said, drawing his wallet out and whipping out what looked like a business card, handing it to John. “My mobile’s on there.”

“Cool,” John said, beaming at him. Sherlock looked surprised, but smiled too, making a lovely swooping sensation fill John’s stomach. “I’ll text you!”

Sherlock nodded, still smiling, and John whirled around and raced up the aisle, grinning as he jumped out, immediately whipping out his phone.

* * *

 

He texted Sherlock all through his lunch with Molly, replying when she was in the bathroom or looking at her menu, hiding smiles and half-listening to her stories.

“John,” she finally sighed, looking at him with a knowing smile, snapping his attention back from texting Sherlock. “Did you meet someone?”

“Um,” John said, trying to discreetly slip his phone back into his pocket.

“It’s okay,” Molly assured him, setting her menu aside and smiling wider. “Tell me who!”

“It’s no one you know, I just met him on the bus.”

Molly raised her eyebrows. “A him this time, huh?”

John laughed. “Yeah, a him.”

“Don’t tell Jeanette,” Molly said, rolling her eyes. John shuddered.

“Oh, I won’t. Or maybe I will, just for the look on her face.”

Molly grinned. “So! What’s his name?”

John blushed. “It’s a bit strange. Posh, really. But so is he. Good god.”

“John!” Molly scolded, sounding scandalized. “A city boy! I’m astounded at you.”

“Jeanette was posh!” John reminded her.

“Jeanette was awful,” Molly reminded him.

“Point,” John conceded, taking a sip of Coke. “But Sherlock’s not awful.”

Molly froze, the excited smile slipping from her face. “Sh-Sherlock?”

John blinked. “You know him?”

“Oh my god,” she moaned, dropping her head into her hands. “He’s gay. _Of course he’s gay_. How did I—oh, god, never mind.”

John raised his eyebrows, and she laughed.

“I absolutely know him,” she explained, dropping her eyes. “Comes into Bart’s constantly, always using the morgue and the labs—actually, I kind of fancied him.”

“Oh,” said John, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“It was a small crush,” Molly waved him off, rolling her eyes. “Gone now. Really only there because he’s…Christ, John, he’s _incredible_.”

John leaned forward eagerly. “Really? I mean, I certainly thought so—“

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, he’s a complete arse,” Molly added, surprising John immensely.

“He’s—what?”

She shook her head, confusing him more. “But he’s _brilliant._ Absolutely brilliant, my _God_.” She grinned at him from over her menu, flipping to the desserts page. “You are going to have _so_ much fun.”

John’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he took it out, laughing a bit too loudly at Sherlock’s text. Molly looked at him, smirking in a way that she rarely did.

_JOHN, THE GAME IS INSISTING THAT BEATLES ONCE SUNG ABOUT SUNSHINE._

John shook his head fondly.

_Sherlock, that's a band._

_FUCK. ME._

John grinned.

“I think I am,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote that in like an hour shut up

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Playing to Win](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3529757) by [Azrael](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azrael/pseuds/Azrael)




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